


It's Not For You To Say

by siniscule



Category: Love Live! School Idol Project
Genre: F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7446934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siniscule/pseuds/siniscule
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Loosely inspired by the song "It's Not For Me To Say" by Johnny Mathis.</p>
    </blockquote>





	It's Not For You To Say

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely inspired by the song "It's Not For Me To Say" by Johnny Mathis.

She looks serious when she walks in, closing the door behind her.

“I was offered a job.”

Pleasantly surprised by her arrival and announcement, you respond with an expectant smile.

Her expression doesn’t change. “It’s in Paris.”

Suddenly the temperature of the living room is uncomfortable. Feeling a shiver run across your shoulders, you gulp down a lump in your throat and sink yourself further into the corner of the couch. You’re both stuck, staring at one another; her crestfallen ruby eyes meeting your amethysts from the entrance of the apartment.

“Are you happy for me, Maki?” she asks after a long sigh, clearly forcing a smile.

It’s hard for you to keep your mouth shut, but leaving it agape would undoubtedly come off the wrong way. You aren’t entirely sure what your heart is saying, but your brain answers for you excitedly, “Of course!”

Her nose crinkles up in a strangely adorable way. “Jeez, you sound more excited than me. Calm the hell down.” She takes off her jacket and hangs it up on the rack by the door, placing her keyring gently on one of the wall hooks before heading toward the kitchen.

“Nico, it’s what you’ve been trying to get for a year now,” you defend, turning your body so that you could peek at her from over the back of the couch. You watch as she takes two mugs out from one of the cabinets.

She ignores you. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Uh, no,” you scoff, returning your attention to the medical journal in your hands. Medical school has been difficult, but not impossible when the right amount of effort is applied. Thinking back on it, it’s possible that you had been reading since Nico left. However, with her news, you find it hard to keep your attention on the words as they appear to slither and dance out of focus.

You look up after a few silent minutes when you notice her figure in your peripheral, and you’re forced to place your book down on the coffee table when she hands you a warm mug of hot chocolate, topped with whip cream and a graham cracker. The gesture makes you blush, and you’re thankful she’s not looking at you as she turns on the television with her own mug in her free hand.

“Is there anything you want to watch tonight?” she asks, nodding her head in acknowledgement when you shake your head, “Then do you mind if I use your phone to play something off the internet instead?”

“Are you going to show me another video on otters?” you ask, smirking slightly behind whipped cream when she rolls her eyes and takes your phone off the table.

“You can’t tell me they weren’t adorable.”

“Who said I would’ve minded?”

She glances at you from over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t mind just talking tonight.” Her attention returns to your phone until a fireplace appears on the television screen. You can’t help but feel anxious from her choice of words, but you manage a few deep breaths while she dims the ceiling light. She places your phone on the table, hot chocolate in opposite hand, and smirks at you as she approaches the couch. “Are you just going to make me stand here?”

You deadpan. “There’s at least four feet worth of the couch left. That’s enough room for your entire body right there.”

“That was cold. Thankfully, I have the hot chocolate that I worked hard to make for the both of us to warm me up. You can help, too, y’know...”

“Fine, just come here.” Rolling your eyes, you assume the usual position. Nico grins victoriously, sliding an ottoman toward you as you face your body toward the screen, propping your feet up while she grabs a small pillow from the opposite end of the couch. She places it on your armrest before sitting, her rump nestled comfortably in the space between your hip and the armrest, with her legs stretched over your lap. She’s sitting up so that she can drink her hot chocolate, but you feel the warmth increase throughout your cheeks at the close proximity. A long day of studying and some tense news could arguably heal faster if your lips could connect.

But Nico wants to talk. “So how was it today? Did the apartment misbehave while I was gone?”

“Of course, when does it not?” Humoring her feels nice.

She fakes a gawking expression. “Don’t tell me… The dishes kept piling up?!”

“Like crazy. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t washed all of your dirty plates.”

She bats her eyelashes innocently. “That sounds awful.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Oi, I come home from a long day at the café just to receive this kind of verbal abuse?! I’m appalled by this behavior, Maki. Absolutely un-girlfriendish,” she huffs, jokingly.

You raise your eyebrow in half-hearted contemplation. “I suppose I could never quite match up to fixing up a round of hot chocolate on a cold night.”

“See? What would you do without me?” Nico laughs to herself, taking a swig from her mug. You watch the way her cheeks rise slightly, enough to prove her laughter is genuine but lacking in the right amount of intensity to betray her apprehension. She’s worried about the job situation, and it would be better to just talk it out even though you’d rather avoid this kind of discussion. You hate that communication is important in a relationship; you suck at it. But this is something that bothers you, too.

“You mean while you’re in Paris?” You swallow more of your drink. The thought is not comforting in any way. But, as you watch her gaze droop, you still feel the urge to support the notion. You don’t know what it would mean for your relationship, or possibly the eventual lack thereof, but what you do know is that Nico has been miserable for some time.  Unable to meet her dreams of becoming a Super Idol after high school, she had no choice but to continue on normally and make something of herself in a different field. Thankfully, her love for fashion is almost on par with Kotori’s, and she was able to attend school for it and currently works hard as a part timer at a local café. But she’s been at it for so long, with little bites at interviews for her ideas of new fashion lines for over a year. She would never show it, but you can see the way feeling unwanted in two dreams hurts her. She’s always been good at faking her exterior.

She doesn’t make eye contact. “Are you saying I should go for it?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Maki,” she meets your eyes, “come on.”

You stretch your arm over her in order to put your mug on the coffee table. Caressing her legs, you offer her a weak smile. She can be irritating, but you wouldn’t ever wish for her to lose this kind of opportunity.

“Don’t you dare look at me like that, come on.” The fireplace on the screen reflects upon her eyes, watery as they slowly morph into a glare toward you.

“You don’t expect me to tell you to reject the offer, do you? Kotori was given an opportunity like this, too, remember?”

“She didn’t go and she was fine.”

You shake your head. “I’m not Honoka and we’re not idols. But you can still be a designer, and I’m not worth risking that kind of dream.”

She sets her mug on the table as well, her mouth agape. “Are you saying you’re not important to me?”

“No,” you groan, “I’m not implying that.”

“It certainly sounds like it! Are you kidding? Has the past year meant nothing? You’re the one who encouraged me to try presenting my own ideas for interviews. You can’t just hop off that train after putting it in motion.”

“Nico, I can’t leave Japan. You know how it is with the hospital. I’m in the middle of school and there are expectations I’ve got to meet.”

“Yeah, and one of them is to tell me not to go!” She’s tearing up.

You bite your lip. The desire to flee the situation is severe, but her body is on you and it would be shitty of you to leave her like this. A part of you is shocked at how badly she wants you to force her to give up but the other half of you is angry about it. But, even still, you’re upset that you could be a reason for her to not do something she wouldn’t have hesitated to agree to a year and a half ago.

You don’t want to say it. “Nico, we haven’t even been together for two years, yet. Don’t put me on some pedestal.”

“I’m sorry,” she shuts her eyes, “that I took so long. I was so headstrong about finishing what I had started that I didn’t take the chance to start this with you earlier. Now, if I take the Paris job, there won’t be any time.”

“Neither of us would’ve been ready is we tried this earlier. If you had been in school at the same time along with your job on top of my own schedule, then we would have barely had a relationship at all.”

There’s a long pause before she speaks up again. “What if there’s no time with this new deal? There will be a seven-hour difference, Maki. You’ll have school and work, I’ll have work.”

You don’t know how to respond, but your palms continue to rub her calves and her thighs. The flames of the fireplace on the screen captivate you, your head looking for anything to distract you from the implication she’s making. You wonder if your heavy breathing is loud.

“Do you want to break up?” Nico asks, putting a hand on one of your arms.

Your body tenses up. “Are you seriously asking?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Do you think we should?”

“I don’t know, Maki. How about you?”

You don’t look at her. “All I know is that I don’t want to, either. But what if you meet someone in France that you like or something? Like a model.”

“You’re more beautiful than any model, Maki.”

“Shut up.” You blush. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

“No, really.”

Nico groans, “I don’t know! It’s not like I’m going to be actively looking for anyone, plus I’ll hopefully be expecting to talk to you every day for at least two minutes or something. Why would you ask me about hypothetical people like that? I don’t care about new people and I don’t want to think about that.”

“I’m just putting it out there.” You shrug, looking at her with half lidded eyes.

She frowns, concerned. “Tired?”

You shake your head, a light blush on your cheeks. “I’m just looking at you.”

“Really?” Nico smirks. “Am I cute?”

“You have whipped cream on your lips,” you lie.

Wiggling her eyebrows, she snickers. “Oh, Maki, are you saying that –“

It’s easy to shut her up. Cupping the sides of her face, you take in her warm, sweet breath as her arms wrap around your shoulders and around your neck. Despite her smug behavior, the tension of her body portrays her true nature; afraid, worried, anxious, perhaps even a tad regretful. You wonder if she can feel your body relaxing along with her own, the way your nerves melt alongside hers as you pull one another deeper into the kiss and close your eyes. Time seems to slow along with your heartbeat, even though its volume pounds against your ears like a drum, drowning out the sounds of the terrifying and hypothetical unknowns of the future; preferring to focus on the way your nose gently bumps against hers as her lips glide across your mouth with a soft smoothness that causes your cheeks to heat up.

You feel a tear run down your cheek, your chest overwhelmed with a strange sense of appreciative melancholy for the girl who will inevitably take your heart along with her to Europe. Even under the same sky, there will be different sunrises and sunsets. You hate feeling like a crybaby, but you’re also too proud to be selfish. If she hates it, she’ll return. If she loves it, perhaps she’ll never come back. But you refuse to be the deciding factor.

Your thumbs gently rub her neck before your arms move down entirely until they wrap themselves around her torso, pulling her into a hug as you pry your lips away. You sigh against her neck when she begins to softly hum against your own. You allow yourself a gentle peck on her shoulder.

“I’ll go,” Nico whispers after a moment of silence.

A wince is unavoidable, and you require everything in your power to keep from crying or squeezing her tighter. This is a girl who has been chasing dreams her entire life, and one has finally come within reach. You’re set; money, education, an assured job at a prestigious medical facility. Nico has never had such privileges, and she doesn’t deserve to be held back after coming so far. No matter how much you love her, this is something beyond you, beyond your relationship. Maybe things will work out or maybe they won’t, but you know better than to ask her to stay.

It’s not for you to say.

“I’m glad, Nico.”


End file.
